Automail
by oh look a puddle to jump
Summary: Even metal can bend, even metal can break. [EdRiza]


**Automail**

_Even metal can bend, even metal can break._

**I**

Outside the window, it was raining.

The overhanging light was brighter than it's usual setting, he noticed, as he sat up in bed and contemplated rolling off the mattress to pee; fatigue and routine nearly overwhelmed him. He collected his legs and sloughed them off the side of the bed, or tried to. His metal leg was absent and he patted at bed sheets that he now recognized as belonging to one family; Rockbell.

As far as Edward concerned himself, the stay here had begun with his head held high and his shoulders thrust back and an airy excuse he had made up on the spot to thwart his mechanic's attempts at prying the reasons from him. It had been harder to breathe like that at the end of the day, with Winry's tools shuddering against his sternum and her voice drawn out into that thin, smug film. Her breast huddled against her tank top like a plump red tomato in a shallow garden, teasing, asking, inviting. The clothes they wore between them could half dress a mannequin. It took everything to not show his excitement when she held onto his hip with oaken fingers for leverage when working on his leg. He needed a blanket to cover his boxers.

"You should feel guilty," his mother told him from the corner. Inverted and monstrous and anything but human and juststoplooking.

Look.

Away.

Coward.

He didn't feel guilty, did he? Sitting half naked on a bed in the country side while Winry winched, measured and torqued fake, mechanical limbs; psychosomatic compound fractures; blood that replaced grease and oil in the gears, and then sinking into a localized tranquility, realizing The Gate wasn't only black but had a diameter and the consistency of blood and was filled with reflections that didn't need your permission to speak to you.

Edward turned over to show his back to the other half of the mechanic's shop. Winry, wherever she was, seemed content in leaving him alone with mother to catch up on old times and trade stories about his artificial limbs. Baking cookies, probably. Fair enough. But where had she gone, anyways?

Nina the chimera opened the door with a shaggy paw and looked up with blank eyes, her mouth opened and didn't follow the contour of her words – like watching a novice puppeteer and said "You failed me."

_Click-clack._

Edward opened his eyes calmly as he swallowed the scream that never failed to gather in his throat when waking from another…bad dream. He blinked to resolve his sleep-blurred vision, and when it had somewhat improved he looked to see Winry sitting across from him in the box seats of train A-10, Central to Ishval. He didn't remember her coming aboard. That didn't stop the blonde from speaking, though, and Edward blinked once more to reset visual reality. Things flipped into focus.

"... ost two years," Hawkeye finished.

He wanted to ask her why she had her hair down, but instead opted to shift in his seat to even out the mashed cushions. Also, that's an awfully weird thing to mention after such a long time, so catch your breath and "Yo."

She said something else but Edward missed it, coerced as he was into staring at the second grin that sat three inches beneath the subtle movement of her lips, jagged and shiny across her alabaster throat. A reflection's painting of mountains and lakes that mirrored her real smile, and almost as grotesquely pretty.

He caught her catching him, and one of Riza's hands reached up to tug slightly at the lengths of golden flax to cover the scar - aha, that explains it - but it did little to hide the mark. Now that he knew it was there, it would be impossible to miss, even with a yellow brush screen that smelled of lavender. And now that Riza knew that Edward knew that she was self-conscious about such … well, awkward was a feeling the alchemist was plenty acquainted with. To her credit, she managed a relatively neutral expression.

One greeting and ten seconds were apparently all that he needed to make a philosopher's stone out of an impromptu reunion. Edward sighed inwardly, half feeling the stifling urge to stare out the windows and watch the countryside rush by. So he did. He shouldn't feel this way, should he? After all, Riza was a comrade from the past who shared moments that legitimized their four hundred thousand dollar life military insurance signatures; and that certainly was worth something when friendship did not come to him so easily.

The click-clack of wheel on track, in lieu of crickets, made for a fitting metronome to the orchestrated silence. Edward found familiarity when the artificial replaced the natural. He didn't feel guilty, did he?

"How have you been these two years?" she, he assumed, repeated. "The only word I've gotten is from your progress reports out East."

"You read those?" Edward watched his etch-o-sketch reflection grin despite itself. He turned to face her. "I didn't think he would actually file those."

"General Mustang?"

He nodded a confirmation, "The man so efficient at his job that he sanctioned his dream position right out of existence."

"I sincerely doubt the two are related, not that it would matter," she said. Well, yeah. He just couldn't resist the jab. "General Mustang has been firmly stationed at Ishval these past two years; I don't believe he's taken a single day of leave. All your reports are cataloged at Central."

"Yeah?" Edward couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice, not that he really tried. Guilt was a motivator when it ate you from the inside, and guilt was a difficult hunger to satiate. He knew something about that. "That would explain why my reports were in a position to be read at all."

"Well, yes." A huff or a weak laugh from Riza, it was enough to push the scent of lavender his way. "And a certain report of yours created quite the stir in the higher echelons of Command."

"Surprise, surprise." Edward pulled taut the slack on his right glove … "What good is a State Alchemist that can't perform alchemy?"

"I could think of plenty of reasons, Edward."

… and released the white cloth and watch it settle like over chewed taffy. "What's done is done."

"That's hardly ever the case where alchemy is involved," said Riza.

"No, I suppose not." They bounced slightly as the train hit a patch of less developed tracks. "And you? Keeping busy in Central? I'd of thought the General would finesse what little paperwork he bothers with to his advantage."

"He has. I've been bouncing between Ishval and Central as a liaison, of sorts." Riza broke the myopic eye contact they held and patted down her pleated military skirt before making a schmaltzy sweep of her arm. "The General did push for this permanent transfer, however. I assume that's why you're on this train."

"Bridges," he said.

"Terrorists," she said.

His eyes leapt up from sterile gloves, "Terrorists?"

All the tension in her face at the mention of Mustang seemed to wind down into the corners of her frown. "The people of Ishval are loathe to forget what our military did, despite our continuing efforts to restructure their country. A radical sect has decided to reopen old wounds the traditional way."

"And they've only sent you?" As the words left his mouth, Edward wondered if slapping the woman would have been less insulting. Maybe if he used his left hand.

A credit to her grace or her familiarity with his lack of tact, Riza let slip away whatever disparaging undertone she did or did not filter with a thumb over her shoulder. "A company of Central's finest is on board, about three cars back."

"Oh."

"Promotion."

"Ah," he said, furtive hazel eyes noticing the sterling insignia on her shoulder lapels for the first time. "Captain. Well, a late congratulations is in order, so … congratulations, Captain Hawkeye."

"Thank you," she switched the crossing of her legs, hands pressing down on the standard issue officer's skirt to keep the atmosphere modest. Someone argued for the reduced hemline of female uniforms everywhere. "Allow me to reciprocate the adulation – congratulations, lieutenant colonel."

"Yeah, thanks." Edward couldn't keep the hiccup or the bubble of hollowed laughter from escaping. "You really did read those reports."

"You never checked in, otherwise."

One of his faded autumn brows ticked upwards.

"My time spent at Central has become relatively boring, so anything from the outside is a welcome reprieve," Riza popped both shoulders up and down. "Not that a call every now and then would hurt."

Now where had he heard that before? "Eh-heh." He chicken winged his left arm to relieve the itch that had spontaneously appeared at the base of his braided hair, "I was busy, you know?"

Hawkeye nodded that yes, she knew, and didn't push it further than that. A lack of any real emotional attachment or just simple friendship, he couldn't decide. That meant placating the blonde with a simple commitment that dug it's foundation into an easy technicality with an easier half smile. "I'll be sure to check in with you periodically when I arrive in Ishval."

"Funny, Edward." she said. The arid and flat expanse of her expression informed the alchemist that it wasn't actually very funny at all. "Not just me. There are others who, dare I say it, care about your whereabouts and livelihood." She didn't say Winry. She didn't have to.

"I'm aware," he said. That didn't mean drumming up issues that taxed him emotionally to the point of exhaustion with a woman he hadn't seen in two years. Weren't they 'catching up'? "A company of soldiers to combat the growing terrorism – this is looking a little bit like what caused the rebellion in the first place."

"Rubber bullets." Riza frowned slightly, taking umbrage with how easily he avoided the topic at hand. "We've realized that this terrorist sect is just that – a small, extremist cell. We'll pacify the violent ones and turn them over to the current Ishval government for a jury and trial."

"And you think that will work?"

Another shrug. "It has to work, else this will end the same way as the first rebellion." There was a pause. A pregnant pause, Edward knew, that invited a year of festering bodies and death and hot lead punching through soft tissue and eating maggots and calling it rice to survive in the space of a second. A pause he knew little about.

"Here's hoping," he offered, lamely.

"Here's hoping," Riza echoed, the clack-clack of the train's rails bringing her back to the present. "I'm surprised you didn't read any of this in your transfer report."

"Oh, this little guy?" Edward tapped the manilla report sitting in the empty next beside him, stacked six inches high. "I made it to page three and fell asleep."

"Maybe you should take the time now to catch up on pages four through two hundred and sixteen," she said.

Maybe. Or maybe he should've spent the lull in conversation reflecting on how 'catching up' between the two had degraded to awkward and choppy conversations about … the military, work, and Mustang. The same things they spoke of four years ago in Central. He half expected her to ask why he didn't visit when he came into her area of operations, then realized which blonde he was speaking with. What happens when two guarded individuals with nothing in common share a train ride? They might as well have talked about the weather.

Edward pushed the stack of papers away from him, which wasn't very far. "There's always the train ride back."

She laughed a little, and the sound drew up contentment in him. Edward tapped the window and motioned to the blurring countryside that scrolled through their faint reflections. They both craned their heads to read the monolithic notice as the train passed by, though both had memorized the sign's inscription long ago.

**WELCOME TO ISHVAL**

**THE DESERT ROSE**

**MAY THE SUN SHINE IN GOD'S GLORY FOREVER**

Outside the window, it was raining.

"How about this weather?"

* * *

"This weather sucks," said Jean Havoc. "This is the desert. It's not supposed to rain."

He watched the cherry ember sizzle as it's most hated enemy invaded it's territory. He watched as the rest of his cigarette became mottled as rain drops continued their unopposed annexation. And he watched as it eventually crumbled from his lips and melted into the puddles below. He watched and did nothing. A soldier in Ishval.

Fuery stopped pacing long enough to let his eyes rake through the foggy and empty train station. Nothing. "You could always invest in an umbrella."

"This is the desert. It's not supposed-"

"To rain, I heard," said Fuery, starting up again, stalking his invisible cage.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." Fuery slowed his steps to another brief halt to wipe the ambivalent fog from his glasses. "The train is running late, is all."

"Trains do that, from time to time." Havoc chanced another cigarette, this one protected securely from the elements in the haven of his cupped palm. "Who are we picking up?"

"Fullmetal and … Captain Hawkeye," said Fuery.

"Ah."

Like a whiplash Kain's eyes went to his superior officer, popping off 9MM hollow point rounds.

"No, no, I understand." said Jean, his voice a liquid placation of amusement. "It's been sometime since we've seen Fullmetal … and the Captain."

"It's – it's not even like that, alright?" huffed Fuery, slamming his spectacles in their rightful and comfortable place around his crown. They made him appear more dignified. "I'm just … it's just … she's - they're war buddies, for crying out loud."

"War buddies."

"That's all."

"Alright." Havoc looked up with his eyes, before hunching over to ignite the moist cigarette still held in his dove-like caress. He took it as a divine sign after the third failed spark to speak his mind - "I've gotta say, Kain, right about now? You're reminding me of a pre-teen girl fawning over an Elrich brothers' autograph."

* * *

"My autograph?" Edward looked up and away from Riza to the brown haired, red eyed teen standing before him with an outstretched book in her hands. _Alkahestry and Amestris: A Study_. "Ah, sorry. That's my brother Alphonse Elrich you're looking for. And he's still out ea-"

"I want to get both of your autographs!" she said, "The Fullmetal and the Fareast signatures in a book authored by one? My friends are going to be so jealous."

"Well, alright." He sold a hapless look in Riza's direction, and received unadulterated amusement in return.

The girl opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it with a girlish chirp. She bit her lip and broke eye contact, offering out a pen. There was a click as he pulled the cap and flipped open the hardbound cover.

He smiled. "I guess I should say thanks for the support. Al would really appreciate this." He lost himself in thought for a moment, "So. Who am I making this ou-"

He ducked and backed away in one violent motion, and before the roar from the first round that whizzed past his head could stop ringing, she was aiming her pistol at Riza's skull. He kicked out awkwardly and caught the pistol as it argued the validity of their lives a second time, the slug punching through the side upholstery beside Hawkeye's head as if it were tissue paper.

Someone screamed.

The would-be assassin's boot pressed against Edward's ribcage as she pushed off, tumbling back into the opposite seating booths in a shambled mess. They collected themselves to the synchronization of the click-clack of train tacks; one purchasing a second sidearm from somewhere and another desperately hurling an academic textbook on a fringe aspect of alchemy.

Thirty seven full length chapters on Alkahestry argued pensively with seven interpreters on the subject of life and death, and another crack was heard as the gun bucked in it's deflection. Six.

She pushed herself up like a trained acrobat and brought her weapon to bear, and Edward was yet faster as his automail palm latched onto her approaching weapon like a handcuff. He tilted his head to one side, letting the breath from two bullets blow at a bang of golden hair as they whistled by him. His grip tightened and the pistol's integrity collapsed beneath his artificial strength.

She turned fully to give her other fist a clear path to his jaw, but Edward's free hand coiled around the strike with something that spoke of more than just reflex. She tried to say something, but wheezed instead as she turned all exertion toward resisting him. She gritted her teeth in the fluttering light, her arm trembling as she tried to overcome the force slowly pinning her arms against the rattling walls.

Her fist opened.

His eyes widened.

"A circle?"

Thunder shook the sordid car as something and everything behind Edward's head disintegrated. He dropped his grip on the girl and his foothold on the shifting floor as a tell-tale high pitched whine announced the distortion of sound that marked another squalid explosion. The rest of everything was carried off with the rattling winds as the train continued on, uninterrupted.

Edward was halfway down when he heard scuffling and saw the demure feet in front of him shifting for balance. His open palms crashed together in the steadfast tradition that brought ruin to everything it touched and opened the floor beneath her.

He watched as wood and metal and debris and the girl scattered like autumn leaves in the wind as she traversed over the empty maw that threatened to swallow her. She was mostly in one piece and struggling to her feet at the far end of the -thankfully, now empty- train car, a charred seat sliding from her shoulder; long swaths of soaking sanguine peaked from beneath the front of her white shirt, the flesh rent by claws of shrapnel.

Edward pulled himself up slowly from the sight of his transmutation; a metal hole who's circular edge slowly ceased it's chemical reformation and trickled the last of it's fraying sand compound into the blurring tracks below.

"Riza?!"

"Still here," the debris to his left croaked. Now that _that_ was settled, he could focus his attention on the form in front of him.

"Who are you?"

She breathed languidly.

"Why did you attack us?"

She breathed languidly.

"Not a talker, huh? That's fine, because I can promise you that you'll wish you had before this is all over."

A quiet wind cut through the wreckage. The girl gripped her wrist with the opposite hand. Edward shifted his stance.

"And I always keep my promises."

The girl took a step forward, and Edward kept his promise.


End file.
